Cino Cinelli - t.i.c.h.

Alas, for the last couple of days I have succumbed to the speed of life and because of it I owe a "compleanno in ritardo" wish to Cino Cinelli ("Cheeno Cheenellee").   Cino's life began as the seventh of ten children on February 9, 1916 in Montespertoli, Italy.  His brother Giotto shared his passion for bikes, but their father unfortunately, did not.  The brothers raced despite their father's disapproval and Cino became even more inspired when he witnessed his brother ride to his first victory.  Cino followed his passion and continued to race with help from Giotto.  In an epic battle with his most intense rival of the day, Gino Bartali, Cino managed to rise the victor of the 1938 Tour of Lombardy.  His other big win of note was the 1943 Milan San-Remo.  The war brought racing to a halt, and unlike Bartali and Coppi, Cino decided not to return to racing. 

He had instead become interested in the mechanical side of the bicycle industry.  Several equipment failures during races had led him to believe he could create better products.  His brother Giotto was already producing steel handlebars and Cino convinced him to move to Milan, the hub of Italian cycling activity.  As well as producing their own products, Cinelli was a distributor of "qualified" bike parts.  Meaning every product they moved had to be approved by Cino.  Their main focus in production, as well as what they are most known for,  was handlebars and stems.  Cino resisted the move to aluminum fearing it didn't have the strength to withstand the abuses of racing.  They eventually started producing cutting edge aluminum bars and stems for the best racers in the world.  In the 50's their annual production numbers of bars and stems were in the 5000 range and by Cino's retirement in 1978, annual production had hit 150,000. 
Cinelli's framesets were also very sought after as well.  Production was very limited because Cinelli wanted every frame built "in house", and the possibility of getting put behind an Olympic track rider was high.  Cino resisted putting his bikes in the pro peloton for fear of stepping on team toes, but track stars could pick their own  rides.  Thus, Cinelli's were ridden to many track victories represented by many different countries. 
Cino dabbled in several other innovations.  He acquired Alfred Binda straps in 1958.  He master-minded the sloping crown fork in the 1950's.  In the 60's he collaborated with a certain Mr. Campagnolo on a "bivalent hub" that would work on the front or rear of the bike.  And 1971 would see Cinelli's creation of the first clipless pedal. 
Although the man behind the company name has past, Cino Cinelli's legacy continues to steer the company into the future.

church of the sweet ride

My better half believes that in winter I don't have enough social interaction.  So I decided to attend church this past Sunday.  Thanks to Tyson and his social networking savvy, there was a strong attendance at church this week.   There was a short blessing of the bikes and Whit unveiled his "smoothie-cycle" to the public.  I missed all this because I wanted to ride out the trail-head, but I think our total count ended up being eighteen strong.  It felt a little weird for me at first, because I haven't been on a mountain bike in a while, but I was digging it.  Amasa Back was a great choice because everyone got to go their own pace and their were plenty of rad breakspots.

At one of those breakspots, a classic Moab introduction (and possibly the highlight of the ride for me), took place.  Angela Carter looks at me and says "Tim, (pause) I know you."  Then, before she could utter another word, I blurted out "Angela, (pause)  I know you too."  A couple of people started laughing and we exclaimed, "only in Moab." 
  Overall the weather was pretty generous to our congregation.   It was a bit windy, but the sun did peek it's head out a few times and threw some heat our way.  I was just psyched to pedal outside and mingle with folks I don't get to see every day. 
I had to peel off early to get the four-legged zombies out for some playtime.  But I can guarantee you I'll be back for more Sunday service.

Eki - t.i.c.h.

Viatcheslav Vladimirovich Ekimov was born 4 February 1966 in Vyborg, Russia.  One of the few Ruskies to penetrate the pro peleton, Eki, earned the title of Russian Cyclist of the Century in 2001.  Eki managed to get himself some Olympic neck bling with two gold medals in individual sprint ('88) and time trial (2000).  He also motored to a few Tour de France stage wins, two of which in the TT.   I got to see him race in the Tour Dupont when they came through western N.C..  I can't remember which year it was, but he was battling it out with Lanceypants and Raul Alcala in a big climb to the finish.  Eki won the Tour Dupont in 1994 and got 2nd in 1995.  His last big race was the Tour de France in 2006.  He is currently  the Directeur Sportif for Radio Shack.  Best cover your ass my friend!
С Днем Рождения Вячеслав Владимирович Екимов!

the right path

I sat through a meeting that lasted 1.5-2 hours long last night.  I had flashbacks of my childhood, seemingly trapped in church every Sunday.  Sandwiched in between my family on an uncomfortable church pew, the meetings with the almighty seemed to last this long.  From this seemed torture rose my sunday mantra, "I'd rather be riding my bike and thinking about Jesus, than sitting in church thinking about riding."  A good friend told his wife this, and it seemed like a good thing to pass on to my mom.  It's amazing what people will do to get out of meetings.

But last night was an important meeting so I put on my big boy pants.   The city has been working with some urban planners and folks in the community to come up with a vision for the future.  About a hundred people showed up for last nights meeting and around seventy people the previous night.  The planners are trying to get feedback from the community to find out what direction to take Moab.  I found there was quite the diversity of folks there, as we perused the topics to be covered.  One of the main reasons I was attending was the topic of bike paths/lanes/trails.  We had a decent local bike contingency there to represent in case we had to break out the pumps and u-locks to knock some sense into people.  Luckily, and actually to my surprise, when it came down to pedal/pedestrian safety the majority was in favor. 
I'm glad I got alerted to this meeting and look forward to seeing Moab become more bike friendly.  Not just in the winter when no one is around.  I was a bit bummed to see such a small show of actual bikes- only six including myself.  Although it was cold from the bowels of old man winter, hovering maybe in the high single digits.  Cold enough for EO to really regret not wearing gloves.  Dumbarse. 

 

Only in Moab would you see a "shuttle bitch" hat at a city meeting!  Golden.

feb 3 - t.i.c.h.

My main man Constant (Stan) Ockers was born on this day in Borgerhout, Belgium in 1920.   Throwing down some impressive wins and finishes during his short career.  He took home the green sprinter jersey from the Tour de France in 1955&1956 and came in second in overall in 1950&1952.  He had a great year in '55 winning the Fleche Wallonne, Liege-Bastogne-Liege, and the World Championships.  Sadly, the next year would turn tragic for Ockers.  He crashed hard on the track in Antwerp and never recovered.  The boyhood hero of the great one himself, Mr. Merckx, left the peloton at just 36 years old.  In 1957 a monument was built to him along the course of the Liege-Bastogne-Liege.   Lang leve Constant Ockers!

whistle pig day

Yes, I borrowed this image from the internet.  But it just spoke to me.  Today being Groundhog day and all.  I can see old Puxatawny Phil forgetting about his big day and boozin' a little too heavily with his mates.  Waking up to a boatload of commotion outside of his crib, he peers at his watch and mutters to himself, "son-of-a-biscuit-eater."   Then he rolls out of bed and hobbles toward the opening of his mound.  Arising from the dirt like a dusty phoenix, he throws down an elbow and tries to focus one hairy eyeball on the Gov'ner.  "Yessir,  looks like spring is on the way, now beat it you bunch of soft crybabies."
I felt like one of those soft crybabies today.  It was downright bitter out.  I went outside a bunch, only to bring in more wood to burn.  My only ride of the day, I forced myself to spin to the store for some beverages.  As I was bundling up to go out, my lady looked at me with genuine concern on her face and says, "You're not really going to ride are you."   I think it was more out of guilt (the beer was for her).  It was indeed the bitter cold I expected it to be, but because I was pedaling it didn't seem quite so horrible.  At least not for the 12 blocks I had to ride.  I love small town Moab!
ps- whistle pig is West Virginian for groundhog

bitter

It is the first day of February and it appears as though the mercury has seen his shadow and has dipped back in his hole.  On a day like today, the sun struggles against the wind providing only light.   I'm glad I was able to get out and enjoy the pre-spring weather we were having.  But now we are back to suffering temps.

The only riding being done by this guy today is over to the laundromat. Not far away, but far enough to enter the pain cave on a day like today.  Except the cave is made of ice.  Much like my face right now.  Not to be completely outdone by the weather, I suit up and head out to hook up the trailer.  "Dead Guy Bike" is waiting patiently to be tethered to the former kid hauler.  Wait, did you say "dead guy bike?"  Yes, I'm afraid the workhorse of the townie line-up was formerly owned by a guy who tried to ride all of Portal trail.  The infamous Portal trail has some serious exposure on it in a few spots.  Needless to say,  the owner of the bike stepped off in the most serious spot and didn't make it.  Sad story indeed.
Now I'm not really sure how, but my girl ended up with it.  It's an early nineties Stumpjumper (complete with fukengruven sticker covering the top tube) with a vintage Switchblade fork on it.  It had spent far too many years hanging in a barn, so I threw on an upright cockpit and my super-sized Brooks saddle.  Fukengruven rides again.  And he seems pretty psyched to be hauling my dirty laundry.